


heaven help a fool

by TheFlirtMeister



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Face-Fucking, Glory Hole, Gotham Season 1, Jim Gordan only makes an appearence in Oswald's mind, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23189817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFlirtMeister/pseuds/TheFlirtMeister
Summary: Soliciting is illegal of course, but so is gratuitous public sex. What would Jim Gordan think? The thought flashes across Oswald’s mind and he almost cums right there and then.
Relationships: (imagined) - Relationship, Oswald Cobblepot/Jim Gordon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	heaven help a fool

**Author's Note:**

> this is just straight up porn

It’s a Tuesday night and Oswald is on his knees in a glory hole bathroom.

This isn’t how he normally spends his free time. This is the first occasion he’s ever come in here, down a back street in a Gotham alley bar, where even Miss Mooney doesn’t visit. The décor is disgusting, and the bathrooms are filthy, especially the one he’s kneeling in now.

There’s a mirror on the back of the stall door, so Oswald can see exactly how depraved he looks, and a hole on the wall, where punters can try their luck. So far, he hasn’t had any visitors, but there’s still time.

He looks at himself in the mirror and a blush spreads across his face. He looks like a common whore, still in his work clothes, hair greasy, pale and sickly looking. He hates himself, but he wants this so badly. Wants something in his mouth, wants to be good, wants to be _useful_.

Someone steps into the bathroom. Oswald holds his breath, because he doesn’t want Harvey Bullock bursting in here with a warrant and finding Mooney’s umbrella boy whoring himself out for free. The footsteps carry across the floor to the stall next to Oswald’s own, and the door is firmly locked.

Oswald wets his bottom lip with his tongue. He’s done this before – not like this, but he’s been with men. Been pushed down into a bed and fucked until he couldn’t speak, hands gripping his hips as they thrust into him, making desperate whining noises that led to fingers in his mouth, keeping him quiet.

Someone knocks lightly on the wall. Oswald knocks back.

The cock pushed through the hole is fat and thick. Oswald shuffles himself closer on his knees to inspect it, letting his breath graze across the head. It twitches in response and Oswald licks a stripe from base to tip. A low groan echoes on the other side of the wall.

_This is bad_. Oswald thinks. _I shouldn’t be doing this_.

He’s hard in his pressed suit trousers. He’ll have to throw them away after this, the knees will be beyond repair, and the stains impossible to remove. Oswald looks at his face in the mirror, thinks about it covered with cum and rolls his hips with uncontrollable pleasure.

The cock bobs up and down through the hole, impatient. Oswald imagines the man on the other side, a businessman, someone who goes on dinner dates with Miss Mooney. Someone like Falcone, big without being overweight, broad shouldered, could easily pay for a rent boy but prefers the anonymity of a glory hole.

Oswald opens his mouth wide and takes the cock into his mouth. It’s salty slick, warm on his tongue and hurts when it bumps the back of his throat. He gags, and the cock is shoved roughly against him harder. He can taste the precum, likes it.

He’s got one hand between his legs, pressing against himself. He wants to jerk off, that horrible primal part of himself that wants to touch, that keeps him awake at night in his mother’s apartment, rubbing himself against the pillows like a schoolboy. It’s wrong, and dirty – and yet so is letting someone face fuck you in a public toilet.

Oswald looks at himself in the mirror again, his mouth stretched around the cock as his eyes roll back into his head, cheeks red. If he took pictures of himself, he could charge a fortune.

Soliciting is illegal of course, but so is gratuitous public sex. What would Jim Gordan think? The thought flashes across Oswald’s mind and he almost cums right there and then. _God_. Jim Gordan in his suit, unbuckling his belt, pulling his cock from his briefs with a frown, telling Oswald that he doesn’t have to, but Oswald would want to. Jim would take Oswald’s face in his hands as he pushed his cock between Oswald’s lips, whispering how _good_ Oswald was-

Oswald gags on the physical cock in his mouth, eyes leaking tears. He pulls away, spit dribbling down his chin, and he wipes it away with the back of his hand, wipes his hand on his trousers. He leans in, sucks on the head of the cock, swiping his tongue across the slit to lick up the precum.

The man rubs his cock against Oswald’s face, smearing wet across his cheeks and nose. Oswald snorts a little, and wonders if he sounds like a pig. He’s getting fatter around the middle with Mooney’s pay checks. Maybe this will be the only way to get pleasure in the future, hidden away from people who can’t see his body.

Oswald shakes his head at his own thoughts, and takes the man into his mouth again. He’s good at this. He’s good at figuring out what makes men tick.

It doesn’t take long for the man on the other side of the wall to cum. He roughly fucks Oswald’s mouth for a few moments and with a low groan that even Oswald can hear, cums down Oswald’s throat. Oswald chokes on it, the sudden rush of white and pulls away.

He swallows hard, hiccups, and looks at the spent cock, still poking through the hole. Almost pathetic.

The man pulls himself away, and Oswald imagines himself quietly tucking his cock into his trousers, doing up the buttons. Going off on his merry way, to wife and children at home. Oswald finds himself getting angry, even though he’s making it all up.

The bathroom door opens and the man walks away, whistling. Oswald slumps back on his knees, faces the mirror.

He’s still hard, desperate for touch. Oswald watches himself as he slides one hand down his trousers, grips himself through his boxers. A breathy gasp leaves his throat, and he takes himself in one hand.

“ _Fuck_.” It’s the first word he’s said out loud in a while and his voice is hoarse. He can still taste cum in his mouth and it spurs him on, jerking himself off as he thinks about faceless men fucking his throat.

One hand shoots out to steady himself, palm against the mirror. He grinds himself against his other palm, making noises that he’d never dare allow before, looking up through his eyelashes at his own reflection.

Oswald looks – _debauched, dirty, depraved_ , fucking his palm with increased desperation, the faceless men in his imagination blending into one before they become James Gordan, bending Oswald over his office desk and spreading his legs apart, fingering him until Oswald can barely hold himself upright and then fucking him until Oswald _screams_.

“ _Jim_!” Oswald cries out before he can stop himself, thrusting into his hand and the pleasure is too much for him-

He cums messily all over his hand, a few spots landing on the mirror. He keeps touching himself, legs shaking as he draws himself out for as long as possible. Oswald inhales shakily and it sounds like he’s been crying.

Fucking _hell_. He’s never going to be able to look at Jim in the eye again, not when he’s imagined what the other man looks like when he’s fucking someone. Oswald wipes his hand on his trousers and pushes himself upright, red faced.

He hopes nobody heard him. Screaming a policeman’s name in a bar like this is sure to raise a few questions. Maybe they’d let him off knowing that he provided relief to their patrons? It’s a stupid thought, and Oswald feels weird, but doesn’t know if it’s good or bad.

He’s still breathing heavily. He stands there, not moving, chest rising in and out as he catches his breath. Oswald straightens his clothing in the mirror, tucks in his shirt, runs his hand through his hair and then regrets it. When he finally thinks he looks presentable, he unlocks the door.

Oswald steps out into the quiet bathroom. A tap drips in the corner, and there is the rumble of jukebox music and angry drunks from the bar. He feels like Alice coming back from Wonderland, into a world with different rules than before. He slowly walks to the bathroom exit and turns to look over his shoulder at the empty stall.

He’ll be coming here again.


End file.
